


Teach me how to thrive (i was a loser just like you)

by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, BAMF Stiles, M/M, Popularity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 06:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16299518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutchmoxie/pseuds/dearericbittle
Summary: Scott was cool now - the Squip had made sure of that. Stiles? Not so cool. All he has left are his cryptic conversations with perpetually wasted Derek Hale as he desperately tries to get an evil computer chip from taking over Beacon Hills.





	Teach me how to thrive (i was a loser just like you)

**Author's Note:**

> Be More Chill, anyone? If you know it, any subtlety I’m attempting to achieve with this fic will probably be rather blatant to you. Hope you enjoy!

Scott was screaming in agony, clawing at his clothes as Stiles looked on helplessly. Scott made him promise - he couldn’t interfere with the chip in any way. 

The chip. The fucking chip. Or, the SQUIP, as freaking Jackson had called it. Someone probably had a ton of fun coming up with a perfect acronym, but Stiles didn’t give a shit. He just wanted his friend to be okay. 

It was a stupid idea in the first place - paying a shit ton of money for a pill that supposedly was a computer chip that would fix Scott’s life. And taking advice from Jackson “Grade A Douche” Whittemore? Even worse. 

And no, that was not just his Lydia “Goddess” Martin-related jealousy talking. Jackson was a douche who was most likely taking drugs. He’d been pathetic back in freshman year, but when they’d started sophomore year he’d suddenly been the most popular guy in school. He’d been a sports star when he’d been a nobody before. 

Stiles was betting it was drugs. And now he was getting Scott hooked. Well, if this first pill didn’t kill him. 

“Scotty, talk to me, please!” 

Finally, the screams stopped echoing through the woods, leaving a terrible silence behind. He just really hoped that no one called the cops - these were not the circumstances in which he wanted his dad to find them. Not again. 

Not after the night they found Laura Hale, completely catatonic and dying of exposure. She’d been missing for nine days, according to her little brother. She’d been acting off for months before that - but after the fire, who could blame her? Twenty years old and forced to raised her younger brother, barely seventeen. 

These days Laura stared at the walls of Eichen House while Derek tried to drink himself to death in the half-burnt house he’d inherited. 

“It worked,” Scott was wide-eyed, thrilled. “Dude, it worked! The squip, he’s in my head.” 

Not creepy at all, Scotty. Not at all. 

“What the fuck?” 

“He kinda looks like Wolverine,” Scott grinned. “Awesome!” 

Already Scott looked better, healthier than he had before. Even his breathing was steadier - Stiles had learned very young to be hyper-aware of any possible signs of an impending asthma attack. Scott was breathing deeply now, bouncing on the soles of his feet and looking none the worse for it. Perhaps he could even take off for a run without needing his inhaler halfway through. 

Maybe the ridiculously expensive computer chip did work - though Stiles wasn’t sure about the science of a computer chip being swallowed down in the human digestion system with a side of Mountain Dew. Why would that one specific drink activate it? 

Now, he wasn’t a science genius like Lydia Goddess Martin, but he knew things, and this was fishy. But Scott was so happy and… it worked. 

Or it was steroids after all - it wouldn’t surprise him. 

“You have an inner wolf now?” Stiles chuckled at the sheer ridiculousness.

“Badass, right?” Scott grinned like a doofus. 

And it was, for a while. It was like a supernatural power, the way Scott suddenly knew just what to say and how to get good grades on his test without cheating off Stiles the way he used to before. The no longer Hugh Jackman look-alike (apparently the squip now looked like a blue-eyed man in his thirties who supposedly looked familiar to Scott) guided him through the most terrifying situations with ease.

Scott was suave now, and Allison Argent was all over it, giggling at him and agreeing to go out on dates with Scott. She partnered with him on all school projects, and she introduced him to all of her cool friends - and he was accepted easily. The perfect package. 

Stiles wasn’t included in that perfect package, and that was fine. He didn’t care that he’d never actually play a lacrosse game, and that Lydia Martin was never going to know that he existed. Because he had Scott, his player two in every stupid video game they’d ever played, and he always would. 

As long as Scott was happy, Stiles would be as well. Even if high school was no longer a two player game. 

* * *

But it didn’t last. None of the happiness did. Not for Stiles anyway. 

Within a few weeks, Scott was no longer sitting with him at lunch. He was hanging out with Jackson instead, with Lydia Martin, with the beautiful and popular people. Scott had made first line, becoming Jackson’s co-captain - he’d even started getting good grades. 

Melissa was proud and relieved, happy to worry just a little bit less about her injury-prone son and his brighter-looking future - and she continued to be nice to Stiles even when Scott was too busy with his new friends to see him. 

Which was all the time these days. 

Even though he was smart, it took a long time for Stiles to get the message. Lifelong friendship and brotherhood over, just like that. 

Solo missions instead of having a brother to have his back. 

Which was why instead of going to the typical high school parties with all of his fellow juniors, Stiles was running around the Preserve in the middle of the night. 

“This is private property,” Derek Hale slurred at him, stumbling in his direction. 

This guy was weeks away from his eighteenth birthday and he was barely able to keep upright from all the drinking. It seemed like every single time Stiles talked to him, he was drunk or high or otherwise incapacitated - he hadn’t interacted with the real Derek since Laura went missing. 

The real Derek was disgustingly competent, able to solve any puzzle and able to charm anyone into doing anything just by flashing them a smile that displayed those cute bunny teeth. The real Derek was smart as fuck - first in his class, student body president (and what a body) and leading scorer on the basketball team. 

This Derek? A drunken excuse for a teenager, Derek was a grumpy asshole who creeped on Stiles at the most inopportune times. 

How much longer could he let trauma be an excuse for fucked up behavior? 

“Someone needs to look after your drunk ass,” Stiles rolled his eyes. 

“And there’s no one else left,” Derek laughed harshly. “My fault. All my fault. I took it first. Because she asked. I could never say no to her.” 

That laugh was one of the most terrifying things Stiles had ever heard. Derek sounded wild, lost, close to the edge - like he was minutes away from following his sister into a padded room. Laura hadn’t even been able to talk. She hadn’t talked since Stiles found her. 

All she’d been able to say was the word Red. Over and over and over again. 

He’d never told his father, he’d never told Derek, worried that it would drag him even further into his downward spiral. But looking at Derek now, at how he teetered, how he glared angrily at the tree he almost walked into…. Was there even such a thing as worse than this? 

“Took what?” Stiles reached for him. “What are you on? I can take you to the hospital, to rehab. Whatever you need. Whatever it is, Melissa can help. I can owe her one more favor, or a dozen more - I already owe her like a million from all the shit I dragged Scott into over the years. And let me tell you, I have dragged that idiot into a lot of shit.” 

Derek was now leaning on him rather heavily - he was a muscly guy, beefy. His muscles had muscles. Stiles was more of a lanky type, and while they were of roughly the same height, there was no way that Stiles could carry all of Derek’s weight. Not without some serious gym time, and yeah, like that was ever going to happen. 

Stiles in the gym? That was a sure-fire way to find out he’d been taken over by a pod person. That he’d been squipped. 

Yes, that was a verb now - he made it one. 

“Not drugs,” Derek was struggling to keep talking. “Wouldn’t do that. Kate said it… make me better. Good enough. I wasn’t. I’m not.” 

Kate? Argent? Kate Argent? That psycho who’d… Oh, fuck. This was not going to go to a good place. 

There were no good places when it came to Derek’s past, but this was a particularly bad episode in the series. Stiles didn’t knew the whole story, but judging by the way Derek’s entire body tensed up at the mention of her name, Kate Argent had done more than just turn the entire Hale family to ash. 

Derek had been sixteen - Kate had been… old enough to stay the hell away from a teenage boy. But she didn’t, and Derek and his family paid the price. 

“Yeah, no drugs, got it,” Stiles attempted to placate him. 

“Alcohol turns it off,” Derek grabs his shoulders, looking sternly into his eyes. “Turn it off. You have to. Scott. I. All of us.” 

And with those final words, Derek Hale passed out, falling on top of Stiles and making them both hit the bumpy forest floor. Well, Stiles hit the floor, because he was definitely breaking Derek’s fall. 

Now he’d have to get out from underneath Derek somehow, which, in any other circumstance… Not now boner. 

Fuck his life. 

* * *

There had been a couple Derek Hale-induced boners over the past week - and some Derek Hale-inspired self love (feeling Derek’s weight on top of him, pushing him down, had been particularly inspiring). 

They hadn’t even interacted since that night in the woods, not since Stiles had called his father and they’d dragged Derek back to his foster home together. The Sheriff had not been very happy that he’d been called in to drag a drunk teenager home, but when he saw it was Derek, he’d helped Stiles without another word. 

People tended to make exceptions for Derek. 

The Sheriff was proud of his son for helping Derek, for being kind to the boy who’d lost everything. Like his son was actually helping, actually making a difference, instead of just watching Derek spin further and further out of control with no ability to stop it from happening. 

Could he be doing more to save Derek? Could Derek even be saved? 

“Stiles.” 

Speak of the devil. 

“Derek.” 

His voice was so recognizable that Stiles didn’t even have to look at him to know it was Derek. And besides, who else would he find in the Eichen House parking lot? It wasn’t as if a lot of people had the guts to go here. Not like Derek, whose only family was here. Not like Stiles, who was… curious. 

He had to see Laura Hale - he was starting to think that all of this was connected, and even one word from Laura might help him get closer to the truth. To fixing Scott. To saving Derek. 

Who didn’t exactly look like he needed saving at this moment. Not at all.

“You look… better,” Stiles tried not to gape. 

Was this even the same person? For the first time in, well, forever, Derek didn’t look like he had crawled halfway down a bottle only to enter into the world unwillingly. No, this time he actually looked good - like his old self. Like the basketball star who’d charmed his grumpy coach into letting him start every single game, even though he was just a sophomore. 

His eyes were bright green, not clouded by alcohol, and there was a smile on his face. Stiles didn’t even know that Grumpy McGrumperson could do such a thing! 

“I feel better,” Derek stepped in closer. 

Derek was actually trying to get closer to Stiles for some reason. It was nice - anyone with eyes probably knew how badly Stiles wanted to get close to Derek. He was just pathetically obvious like that. 

There was just something… off about Derek today. 

“I’m glad,” Stiles forced a smile onto his face. 

Did he just like the trainwreck version of Derek? Was this some weird kink where he only liked him because Stiles could fix him or something? 

“Thank you for taking me home last time,” Derek gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I haven’t been more appreciative of your efforts to help me.” 

Did he swallow an SAT prep book? Derek wasn’t usually this verbose. 

His Spidey-senses were going off like mad. 

“Not a big deal,” Stiles shrugged. “Just glad I could help, dude.” 

Not even a flinch. Derek had always hated being called dude, right? Or was that just a drunk Derek thing? Shit, did the guy actually have multiple personalities, or? 

Something hinky was going on here, and he had to get to the bottom of it. 

“How about I treat you to a nice dinner?” that phony smile was somehow still on Derek’s face. “To say thank you.” 

A date with Derek Hale - with all the flirting he was doing, it was obviously an invite for a date rather than just a dinner. If it were genuine, he would have been doing a happy dance right about now - it just didn’t feel real. 

A diversion tactic? 

Was he paranoid or were people actually out to get him? 

“That’d be cool,” Stiles kept his words as awkward as possible. “I gotta go in though, before visiting hours are over. Talk to you later?” 

Without waiting for an answer, he rushed inside, breathing heavily and trying to will away his body’s rather obvious response to Derek’s nearness. 

Laura didn’t have much to say. Her vocabulary had expanded though; she could now say the word red and the word out. She’d repeated them over and over again until Stiles could no longer ignore his headache. 

He’d told her goodbye and promised her that he’d figure it out. 

It was a hollow promise. 

* * *

There was a knock on the door in the middle of the night, someone yelling his name so loudly that he knew he’d be hearing from the neighbors in the morning. His dad was on the night shift, so at least he wouldn’t lose sleep over it. 

“Stiles, please!” 

He dragged himself down the stairs, only wearing boxers because he didn’t like getting caught up in his clothes when he slept. Whoever it was would just have to deal with it. 

Of course he knew who it was. He didn’t exactly have any friends who’d come by to visit. Not anymore.

“Get in here,” he told Derek the second he opened the door. “And shut up.” 

The grumpy drunk followed orders rather beautifully, a thrill racing down Stiles’ spine as Derek meekly sat down on the couch. He glared the whole time, but he listened. No charming comments meant to persuade him. 

No more creepy pod person Derek. 

“Now, at a normal volume,” Stiles had to roll his eyes. “What is it? What is so urgent that you have to drag me from my bed in the middle of the night?” 

Grumpy Derek, normal Derek, didn’t grin at him charmingly while spinning elaborate apologies he didn’t actually mean. No, the real Derek just looked at the ground, the tips of his ears turning red. He fiddled with his leather jacket before speaking up. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek reluctantly looked at him. “I didn’t mean to. Earlier. I was creepy. I’m sorry.” 

This was just… delightful. An apology from Derek freaking Hale - Stiles was giddy with it. He was halfway tempted to let him grovel for a little while. He’d earned that much after these past few weeks. 

But then again, creepy Derek had earned those things. This Derek? Not so much. 

“Are you apologizing for Bizarro You now?” Stiles grinned. “Adorable, but unnecessary.” 

“You know,” Derek’s entire body sagged in relief. 

For the first time, he actually looked like he might not be at attention, like he didn’t have to prepare to get the metaphorical stuffing beat out of him at a second’s notice. He was kind of ridiculously hot this way. 

“Is it safe to talk?” Stiles let the paranoia get the best of him. 

“As safe as it can be,” Derek pulled a flask from his coat pocket and took a swig. “As long as I keep drinking.” 

Because drinking was the only thing that managed to shut it down. The squip didn’t interact well with alcohol - good, because all evil machinery needed a weakness. 

“Cheers,” Stiles pulled a bottle of whiskey from his dad’s not so secret supply. 

Just in case they needed it later. He didn’t exactly want Derek to be drunk for all of this, but it was the only way. 

He couldn’t even imagine how hard it must have been for Derek. No confidante, no one who would believe him, or even understand. Just Stiles. 

“Kate gave it to me,” Derek started talking when his flask was empty. “I was a loser, and so desperate to please her. I loved her. I thought she loved me.” 

She didn’t. Stiles knew this story. 

“If you don’t want to,” he started. “You don’t have to.” 

Fuck, was this entire enterprise meant to traumatize Derek to the maximum extent? Was there nothing about this that could make it less awful? 

Probably not. Not until they destroyed it. 

“It looks like her to me,” Derek flinched, trying to shake off her presence. “She - it shocks me when I don’t comply. And with Laura… I have to comply. I had to give it more, when she…” 

Everything was starting to make sense. 

“Jackson,” Stiles nodded. “And he gave it Scott.” 

Jackson didn’t care about Scott - he wouldn’t care about giving up a random classmate to a digital equivalent of a monster. What a fucking douche. 

But even fucking Jackson didn’t deserve this. 

“And Lydia,” Derek wasn’t finished. “And soon Allison. And then you. It wants you.” 

Stiles knows deep within his heart that if the Squip were to get him, if someone were to get him to drink it, that it would take his mother’s face as its own. That it would use the deepest pain he’d ever felt to tear him to pieces, in the hopes of making him do its bidding. 

“It can try,” Stiles put on a brave face. “But we’re destroying it first. Laura said Red. And out. Something red takes it out?” 

It had to be something difficult, something that made sense. A mirror of how it got in? They swallowed the squip, so they had to poop it out? No, that was too weird. 

The drink. The fucking drink. 

“Did you drink it?” Stiles had his eureka moment. “Mountain Dew? You had to ingest it with Mountain Dew, right?” 

Derek gave him the patented WTF eyebrows, but Stiles elected to ignore that, because he knew that he was onto something. There had to be a reason why it had to be Mountain Dew, why it couldn’t be any other soda. 

“Tell me!” 

“Yes,” Derek replied this time. “It wouldn’t take with water.” 

He was high on his own thought process, knowing that he’d figured it out, that he was going to foil the evil scheme to take over the world. Take that, evil computer!

Stiles was going to beat the freaking Cylons. Metaphorical Cylons. Whatever. He was going to save them all! 

But first he was going to make Derek drink just a little more, to make sure that he was drunk enough so the message wouldn’t get to it. To her. To Kate. 

Once again, Derek followed orders with a glare. He trusted Stiles, and God, wasn’t that the most marvelous thing? 

“Mountain Dew Red,” Stiles stepped in front of Derek. “Regular Mountain Dew installs it, the Red deletes it. It has to be. Now where do we get it?”

The smile on Derek’s face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He looked happy, like the weight of the world had fallen off his shoulders for just a second. Stiles stared, pathetically, trying to take in all the details because he knew it would be a long time before he’d see this again. Even after taking out the chip, Derek wasn’t going to smile like this for him. Not much. Not like this. 

Derek let him stare for a while, before yanking him close, letting Stiles fall into his lap clumsily. Derek’s arms were around him, warm and strong and safe. 

And then he leaned in. 

“What are you…” Stiles stammered. “Oh, fuck!” 

Everything about Derek was warm, solid. Except his lips - they were so soft that Stiles almost thought he’d imagined Derek touching them to his, that he’d imagined a kiss that hadn’t actually happened. But it had. 

The next kiss was not as soft - there was more pressure as Stiles threw everything he had into the kiss, almost clacking their teeth together awkwardly. 

He’d never done this before, and Derek could probably tell. But he clearly didn’t care, because they just kept kissing, Derek’s hands roaming over Stiles’ bare chest. 

Because he never did get dressed and holy shit did he not regret that. 

His own hands had made their way under Derek’s stupidly sexy jacket, trying to pull him impossibly closer. 

Finally, when he was out of breath, he pulled away from Derek, just a little bit. 

“That was…” he was lost for words, for once. “I wish we could keep doing that. But unless I want you to keep being drunk for this… We have to fix it first.” 

Derek pouted at that, so Stiles kissed him. He had to. 

It took them a little while to regain their focus. 

* * *

Stiles was hiding in Jackson’s bathroom, trying not to cry. 

Scott had never talked to him like this before, had never refused to listen to Stiles’ plans before. He’d never been purposely cruel in his life. 

Until now. 

He’d called Stiles a loser, told him that Scott had only been his friend because he pitied him. That Stiles was too much, too loud, too talkative for anyone to ever like him. Even his dad could barely be around him. 

All the things his darkest thoughts already said to him. He didn’t care if he wasn’t popular, if he didn’t have friend - as long as he had Scott. 

It wasn’t Scott’s fault though. It couldn’t be, had to be that fucking squip saying the words. But the squip only knew about this through Scott, so maybe Scott had thought this before and just hadn’t said it until now. 

People kept knocking on the door, wanting to use the bathroom. He couldn’t let them in - they’d see he’d been crying and that would be the last blow to his reputation. He was already way too close to a panic attack. 

This was supposed to be a two player game, but instead he was just Stiles in the bathroom at a party. How pathetic. 

He needed someone and there was no one. He had no one. 

Not unless he did something. Not unless he fixed it - and even then he wasn’t sure they’d thank him.

There was another knock on the door. 

“Occupied,” he pitched his voice as high as he could. 

For some reason, people were more tolerant of girls holding up the line for the bathroom. He had to take shameless advantage of that. 

Besides, there were like five more bathrooms in the house. People could deal.

“I know it’s you Stiles,” Derek’s voice was soft. 

So the wrong guy was in charge again. 

Because of course he was. Last time, Stiles had been tangled up in Derek for most of the night until he woke up at 5.30 am with an apologetic note on the nightstand. Apparently Derek had to leave before he got sober and his skeevier self regained control. It made sense, but that didn’t mean Stiles liked it. 

“Come in,” he opened the door for wrong Derek.

“I was hoping I’d see you here,” this Derek didn’t have nearly as cute a smile. “We never did get dinner together.”

They did make out like a lot, but this version of Derek wasn’t there for that - fortunately. Stiles didn’t want him anyway, he wanted the real version. Grumpy and all. 

“We could start with a drink?” Stiles held out his extra solo cup. 

The one Scott refused to drink from, because he apparently didn’t drink soda anymore. How was Stiles supposed to know that? They didn’t talk anymore. 

How was he supposed to know that Scott was on a fucking cleanse? This was Scott he was talking about - a few weeks ago he barely would have known what a cleanse was. And what it meant. 

“I’d like that,” the fake smile wasn’t going anywhere. “You appear to be a busy man, and it seems I must take advantage of the few moments I can get you alone.” 

Coming on way too strong there buddy, with those ridiculous lines that weren’t even remotely real. Apparently the squip had figured out that Stiles needed to be distracted - or it saw another use for him. Maybe it was going to make Derek squip him, instead of Scott. 

It could try. But it wasn’t nearly as attractive as real Derek. 

“Why Derek,” Stiles drawled in a fake southern accent. “I do believe you’re trying to seduce me.”

“Trying?” Derek was cocky about it too. 

Playing along was… ugh, but he did it. Just until Derek took the drink from him and took a sip. And another, and another, until the cup was empty and Derek was holding his head and screaming. 

“What did you do to me?” 

Stiles pulled him close, holding him. His arms around Derek, his fingers rubbed the skin between his fitted shirt and his tight jeans, trying to soothe him. 

The screaming died down slowly, and Stiles worried that he’d gotten it wrong. That maybe it hadn’t been the solution after all. That he’d failed Derek. 

That was when Derek kissed him, tasting of Mountain Dew Red.

* * *

The big game was a disaster. 

After the party, where half the junior and senior class began screaming, a stunning amount of teens were hospitalized. 

Scott spent about a day with his mother at his bed, telling him about the things he’d done over the past few months. Apparently memory loss was one of the common side effects - that is, if it wasn’t just a convenient excuse. 

Because Derek remembered everything. He apologized a lot, and Stiles called him an idiot for it - it wasn’t his fault. But clearly he needed some form of penance, so Stiles made him attend his lacrosse game. 

Now that half the team was recovering, he was actually going to play. He got an assist, and mostly faded into the background, but he did get to play. 

“I’m proud of you, kiddo,” his father was beaming. 

He’d taken time off work to watch the game, sitting next to Derek on the cold bleachers. That hadn’t been nearly as awkward as Stiles had been anticipating - now that Derek was sober all the time, and the withdrawal had died down, the Sheriff had grown even more fond of him, 

And with Laura about to be released from Eichen House, nothing could cramp Derek’s mood.

Except… 

“Stiles!”

Scott came running, breathing back to its unsettling normal. He pulled at his inhaler, barely used to the old habit after months of going without. 

“Scotty,” Stiles wasn’t sure what to say. 

“You did so good!”

That was unexpected. Derek had tensed up, ready to defend him if Scott decided to take offense at Stiles’ destruction of the squips. Apparently that wasn’t necessary. 

“That assist was awesome,” Scott continued, back to his typical puppy self. “Coach should play you more often.” 

As if. Jackson was gonna get out of the hospital and Stiles would be forgotten. And that was fine by him. 

He had other things to focus on.

“Nah,” Stiles shrugged. “I’m good where I am.” 

Having time to figure out how he and Derek worked together without a common enemy to defeat, getting his grades back to where they used to be before he got caught up in squip business. It was plenty - he didn’t need popularity.

“Cool,” Scott didn’t seem to understand. “Wanna play video games on Sunday? I have a date with Allison on Saturday, but I really wanna hang with you.” 

So clearly Scott’s priorities were back to their normal levels. Or maybe even a little better than they were before. He’d finally realized that he could have both. 

And that Allison likes him regardless of a stupid computer chip.

“Sure thing player two,” Stiles accepted easily. 

He could afford to be magnanimous. Scott might have taken the chip, but Stiles had slain the wolf and gotten the guy. 

“Let’s go,” he turned to Derek. “You owe me dinner.” 

With Derek arguing that he shouldn’t be expected to keep his evil self’s promises, they made their way off the field. 

“Take a shower. You stink.” 

Stiles laughed. All the charm in the world and Derek was still a total jerk in all the best ways.

“There’s the charming Derek I fell for.” 

The tips of Derek’s ears turned red again, and Stiles debated asking him to join him for that shower. Just to see what he’d do. 

After all, he still had so much to learn about this real Derek. He couldn’t wait.


End file.
